


think about sinking down

by dwreed



Series: i'm a ship like you [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Amputation, M/M, Shiro almost dies, conniving pirates, when will he get a break in fic and in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 19:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwreed/pseuds/dwreed
Summary: “If I were to make you part of our crew, what would you do for me in return?” Keith seemed to be the conniving one - at least Lance was upfront about trying to finagle his way out of this. Lance’s eyes swept over Keith’s form, taking in the way his shirt was too tight over his muscular shoulders, his hair draping over his neck in disarray, his sleeves rolled up to reveal toned arms.“What wouldn’t I do for you in return?” Lance whispered. Keith looked taken aback, flush quick to make its way from his cheeks down his neck. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, like a dehydrated fish lost for words.“Keith, we’re going.” Shiro passed by in a flurry of overcoat, placing his hat on his head upon his exit. Keith swallowed thickly and pushed himself away, finally deciding on saying nothing as he fled in a hurry after his captain.orLance gets left on Tortuga after a failed plunder on Captain Shiro's ship.





	think about sinking down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breadpoetsociety](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadpoetsociety/gifts).



> THIS IS... SO FUCKING LATE HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY BREAD I AM A TRASH PERSON cries <3
> 
> sorry we're moving a bit backwards here wheezes i hope you enjoy it anyways!

The boat rocked and dipped under Lance as he sat in his cell, humming as he stared out the tiny window to look at the sea. He thought of the chest up in captain’s cabin above his head, with his last name scrawled in cursive font over the front, feeling rage building up in his chest. To be completely fair, it wasn’t as though anyone but his crew  _ knew  _ that the chest was rightfully his, and it wasn’t as though anyone but his crew cared. Still, knowing the money that should be going to his family was being shared among pirates grated on his nerves and turned his heart sour. 

 

“McClain.” Lance said nothing, taking his sweet time turning from his place at the window. The first mate glared back at him, arms crossed over his chest as he assessed him. 

 

“Mm. How’s your captain doing?” Lance felt a smirk tug at his lips, but the first mate looked anything but amused, grimace overtaking his features as he stepped his way over to Lance’s cell, boots heavy on the hardwood flooring. “Not too great? Shame. If he dies who does the chest get passed on to? Probably you, right?” 

 

The first mate went for his sword, taking it halfway out of the hilt before taking a deep breath and placing it back. The scar on Lance’s neck itched in response, remembering the metal cutting into his skin. 

 

“How much do you know about first-aid?” The first mate flipped his ponytail over his shoulder, and Lance’s gaze followed it before looking back into his eyes.

 

“More than a few things.” He wondered if he could negotiate his freedom for helping, but it wasn’t likely. Still, maybe his sentence would be lightened, or less severe, or less painful. The first mate assessed him, and then tugged his gun from his holster. 

 

“We need help. No funny business or I put a bullet in your head.” He unlocked Lance’s cell and pointed the gun at him, motioning for Lance to follow him. Lance sighed, pushing himself to his feet and exiting, feeling the gun at the back of his head the moment he was outside. “Upstairs.” The first mate instructed. Lance climbed up the ladder, grimace on his face as another gun was stuck in his face - this time by a man who looked a lot like someone from his own crew, but taller and wider in stature. He had to blink at the sandy blonde haired man for a moment in confusion before he was being pushed along towards the captain’s cabin. 

 

Their captain looked almost dead. 

 

The blonde ran over to him, leaving the first mate to deal with Lance by himself, but Lance didn’t delay in glancing around for anything they might need. “Rags, alcohol, and clean water, please.” When the blonde didn’t make any move away from the captain, the first mate sighed. 

 

“You try anything and you’re dead.” He reiterated. 

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance waved him off, watching him leave and start shouting orders over the deck. Lance made his way over to the cot, studying his appearance. The blonde was removing a cloth from the captain’s head, placing a hand to his forehead. 

 

“His fever’s gotten really bad,” the blonde bemoaned. Lance glanced at the arm he’d taken a slice out of; the bandage definitely needed to be changed - the bottom half of his arm looked more pale than above the incision. He wondered if they’d need to just… remove it completely to save him. Lance began to peel off the bandage, hissing and glancing away from the wound he’d personally left. The blonde next to him visibly shuddered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “You’re going to be okay, Shiro.” Blondie insisted, even though the captain was knocked out. 

 

“Matt. Here.” The first mate came back into the cabin, handing a bucket of water to him and then a bottle of alcohol to Lance, placing a pile of rags between them. Blondie - Matt, Lance noted - dipped one of the pieces of cloth into the water and began to dab the captain’s sweat away. 

 

Lance set about placing one of the rags under Shiro’s arm, tugging the cork from the bottle before pouring the alcohol over the wound. Shiro began to shake, and Lance grimaced as he struggled to keep his arm still. 

 

“He’s already got an infection, I think we might need to remove his arm.” Both Matt and the first mate blanched at him.

 

“No, we’re not doing that. Right, Keith?” Matt turned to look at the first mate, but he - Keith - seemed frozen. 

 

“He might die either way but-...” People died of disease on ships all the time - getting injured wasn’t the problem, it was trying to recover from it. Lance knew that. It appeared that Keith knew that. Matt would learn it soon enough if he weren’t just in denial. The bottom half of Shiro’s arm really did look dead already. Lance wouldn’t be surprised if it was the root of the problem. 

 

“Can’t we wait to see if he’s fine?” Keith swallowed thickly, but Lance shook his head. 

 

“By the time we realize he’s  _ not  _ fine it’ll be too late.” They all looked at each other, and Keith groaned before storming out of the room. Lance could hear him shouting orders across the deck again, and when he came back to the cabin he shut the door behind him, wielding a saw. Lance could feel all the blood drain from his own face. 

 

“Keith you don’t have to be here for this.” Matt insisted, but even he himself didn’t seem like he was in good enough shape to be there, gripping Shiro’s hand like his life depended on it. 

 

“Yeah, I do.” Keith handed Lance the saw, and Lance gulped nervously as he stared down at it. 

 

“One of you has to hold his arm still. He’s probably going to start convulsing in shock but if he makes it we’ll pretty much be in the clear.” He tried to appear confident, but wasn’t sure how well it was working. Regardless, Matt and Keith nodded, Keith taking Shiro’s arm and Matt climbing on top of him to hold him down in case he began to convulse. “Okay…” He took a breath to steel himself, and then began to saw Shiro’s arm off. 

 

He’d been unconscious but he began to stir, fighting against them as Lance held his breath and continued. 

 

“It’s going to be alright, Shiro. It’s going to be okay.” Matt was reassuring him, but the captain was beginning to shake anyways, either in protest or in shock Lance wasn’t entirely sure. Lance felt like he might puke, blood coating his hands as he sawed methodically, and Keith’s face looked paled - probably in the same boat.

 

The screaming began abruptly, but none of them were caught off guard. Matt was crying, wiping the sweat from Shiro’s brow and trying to shush him as Lance and Keith kept at his arm. “Almost there,” Lance gritted out, choking on his own urge to vomit. He glanced at Keith for a moment, who was wincing and trying to force himself to keep an eye on Lance even with Shiro’s screams penetrating their ears and Shiro’s blood staining their hands red.

 

Shiro’s hand and forearm dropped unceremoniously to the floor as Lance finished cutting it off successfully. “Alcohol and rag.” He demanded, pressing the rag that was already there to compress Shiro’s wound. Keith set about it with shaking hands, breath shaky as he handed the bottle to Lance. He removed the rag and poured more alcohol, Matt having to take hold of Shiro’s shoulder so that he’d hold still, and then handed the bottle back to exchange it for a new cloth and continue to compress it. 

 

“Here.” Keith removed the belt from his waist and handed it over to Lance, and Lance took it with his one free hand, waiting for Keith to take control of the cloth before he began to loop the belt around Shiro’s arm to keep the rag in place, stabbing a new hole in the leather so that he could clasp it. 

 

Shiro was still shaking and Matt was still trying to sooth him, hands on the other man’s face as he tried to blink back his tears, when both Lance and Keith sat back to take a deep breath. Lance was beginning to feel a bit better, but Keith still looked on the verge of being sick, and Lance didn’t particularly blame him. 

 

“Thank you,” Keith muttered, swiping a hand over his sweaty forehead, leaving a stripe of Shiro’s blood behind. Lance shook his head. 

 

“My fault in the first place…” He trailed off. As if remembering that fact, Keith sat up straight, tossing his ponytail behind his shoulder and trying to recompose himself. He was doing a bad job of it. 

 

“Right, well… I’ll take you back to your cell in a bit.” He slumped again, leaning against the cot and letting his head droop there. Lance stared down at Shiro’s severed hand and forearm, and then pushed himself to his feet, wandering over to the door of the cabin and pushing it open. The two men outside turned to look at him with grimaces. 

 

“I think your first mate needs some water,” Lance explained. The burly man on the right sighed and went over to the cask, pouring some water into a goblet and bringing it over to Lance with a wary look on his face. “Thanks.” Lance shut the door and wandered over to Keith, kneeling down and handing the water over to him. Keith took it hesitantly, placing the rim to his lips and taking a hesitant sip. 

 

Lance went about grabbing the remaining rags, wrapping up Shiro’s hand and forearm tightly and placing it on the table in the center of the cabin. 

 

Keith shakily stood to his feet, taking sips of his water as he waved for Lance to follow him. Lance did so without protest, avoiding eye contact with anyone as Keith led him back down below deck and to the brig, locking him back up in his cell. He turned to look at the acting captain, studying the tired look in his eyes, the distress on his face, and the dried blood on his forehead.

 

“If he dies I’m going to kill you.” It was tired but sincere. Lance nodded in understanding. Keith tugged his hair free, shaking it out as he turned on his heel and went back up the ladder to the deck. 

 

Shiro didn’t wake up for four days. 

 

Lance fully expected him to die, and he sat in his prison cell contemplating his life as he sat in anticipation for any word from the crew. Only two people ever came down to see him, Keith and Matt, and Lance suspected that Keith wanted it to stay that way. Keith didn’t talk to him, only came to give him food and water and then leave. Matt was more talkative and more friendly, giving Lance updates on Shiro’s condition and asking Lance for advice on how to care for him. The way they contrasted gave Lance emotional whiplash, but at least he was being taken care of for the most part. He wasn’t about to complain to either of them. 

 

When Shiro woke up fully a week later he still wasn’t well enough to get up and walk around, but according to Matt he seemed to be doing alright, despite the pain. Lance smiled at him and told him that he was glad, but the prospect of Shiro being awake just made him anxious. 

 

Another week went by before Keith spoke another word to him.

 

He came down the ladder with no food or water, and just stood there watching Lance watch him for a while. 

 

“We’re taking you to Tortuga.” It was the first time Lance had heard him talk since the day he’d assisted in cutting off Shiro’s arm. Lance stared at him blankly for a moment. 

 

“To make an example out of my death, then.” Lance should’ve guessed it would be this way. Keith shook his head, glancing down at his boots. 

 

“No. We’re leaving you there. You’ll be working with a friend of ours, to pay us back for the labor we’ve lost.” 

 

That sounded a lot like something Lance didn’t want to do. He straightened up, trying to find some way to get out of it. Pirates had  _ saved him  _ from situations like that. Pirates had been the ones to set his family free; yet here was a crew that was putting him right back to work? 

 

“No.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. 

 

“You don’t have a choice. That’s where you’re going.” Keith turned on his heel, turning to glance over his shoulder when Lance stood up and gripped at the bars. Lance wasn’t entirely sure what kind of look he was wearing, but it was enough for Keith’s expression to soften. He sighed, arms going over his chest in their usual defensive cross as he chewed at his lip and seemed to debate for a moment. 

 

“It’s the punishment Captain Shiro decided for you. It’s non negotiable.” 

 

“How long?” 

 

“Until he decides your debt has been paid.” 

 

“That could be forever.” 

 

They stared at each other. Keith looked tired, like he didn’t have the energy for this conversation. He probably didn’t. He’d been acting captain for about a month, and now they were about to drop off a prisoner of theirs at a port that  _ knew  _ Lance’s face. 

 

A port that  _ knew  _ who Lance was, and knew why he would be stranded there. Lance rested his forehead against the rusting bars, taking a deep breath. 

 

“It won’t be forever,” Keith insisted. Lance knew he probably wasn’t being truthful, but he still hoped, anyways. He wanted his crew back, he wanted his ship. He collapsed back onto the floor, leaning against the bars and sighing. Keith stood there, still, before stepping over to the bars and sitting on the opposite side, criss-crossing his legs. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s better than being dead, right?” 

 

“Debatable.” Lance shut his eyes, and he could feel Keith sigh across his face. 

 

Tortuga felt different, now that he knew he was going to be stuck there. He recognized the tavern he was being led up to with a gun pointed to his head, in broad daylight. There weren’t a lot of people out - except for barmaids and sailors unloading their casks and barrels. Lance thought of all of the times he’d been on this island to take a breather and map out his next plan of action, and yet here he was now. 

 

The tavern was empty, save for two men at the bar and a man passed out in the corner with an empty pint in front of him. 

 

“Ah! Captain Shiro, Keith. Nice to see you again,” the orange-haired man greeted them, mustache bristling as he assessed Lance carefully. 

 

“We have someone for you, Coran.” Keith pushed Lance forward, as if he were making a hostage trade. The man, Coran, hummed, stepping from behind the bar to assess Lance carefully, taking stock of his height, his stature, his hair, his  _ everything.  _

 

“You don’t have to go pointing that gun at him. He’s not going to run away, are you, m’boy?” Coran poked Lance in the ribs and Lance squirmed away, grimacing slightly. 

 

“No.” He wasn’t going to run away because he was outnumbered here. He was alive, at least. He wasn’t dumb enough to waste that. Keith hesitated, and then looked at Shiro, who nodded before Keith flipped the safety and put his gun back in its holster. 

 

“So why are you bringing him to me? He’s part of another crew, isn’t he?” Coran tilted Lance’s chin up, getting up in his face as if he could look into Lance’s soul through his eyes. Lance let him. 

 

“Captain of  _ The Supernova _ . Formerly. He took some lives of my crew members so he’s here to pay his debts.” Captain Shiro absently rubbed at where his arm was missing, and Coran removed his eyes from Lance to stare at the empty space there before looking back to Lance again. 

 

“You’re not just killing him?” It was a fair enough question, but Lance still wished Coran hadn’t asked it. 

 

“Killing him will do nothing but cause resentment from his crew. We plan on overtaking them and their acting captain the first opportunity we have.” 

 

Lance could feel his blood boiling, fists curling up as he turned to look at Shiro, who was as calm and collected as ever, seeming to be testing Lance’s temper. 

 

“You know I don't like in-fighting.” Coran was scolding him, almost. Shiro had the grace to flush, but said nothing about changing his mind. Coran straightened out his back, patting Lance’s head in a way that didn't quite read as condescending as he turned on his heel. “Very well. He can work here. I’m assuming you want his wages funneled to you?” Coran stepped around the bar, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill, dipping it in ink before beginning to scrawl. 

 

“Yes. That’s the plan.” Shiro nodded his head, and Coran continued to scrawl. Lance glanced around the bar, to Keith who was standing in the corner watching him with his arms crossed. Keith was pretty hard to read regardless, but especially now. Shiro went to the bar to negotiate terms with Coran, asking the other man there for a drink as he got comfortable. Lance debated with himself before stepping over to talk to Keith, biting at his lip. 

 

Still, he didn’t know what to say - what  _ could  _ he say? Keith wasn’t going to change Shiro’s mind. There wasn’t any reason for him to take pity on Lance. 

 

That’s when a plan began to formulate in his head. 

 

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to become part of your crew? You’re missing a few people, right?” People that Lance himself had killed or had thrown overboard, but that point was neither here nor there. Keith said nothing, watching him with a bored expression on his face. “You could keep an eye on me. Hover over me while I eat, work,  _ sleep _ …” He reached out to caress Keith’s cheek, but the first mate was quick to slap his hand away, eyes narrowing. 

 

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Keith spat. Lance pouted, sitting back on the table and swinging his legs precariously. 

 

“Oh, come on. As part of your crew what reason would I have to try to overthrow your captain? It’s a democracy isn’t it?” Lance leaned back on his hands, tilting his head to the side. Keith considered him for a moment, eyes lingering on the curve of Lance’s neck. “You know I’m right.” 

 

“I know you’re conniving,” Keith replied, blunt. Lance huffed in annoyance. 

 

“It’s not like I’ve never been a normal crew member before.” 

 

“So? What made you captain?” 

 

Illness. Scurvy. Lost rations. “Mutiny.” Lance grinned devilishly. Keith rolled his eyes, pushing himself from the wall and planting his hands on either side of Lance’s hips, leaning into his space. Something in Lance’s core seemed to ignite under his gaze, grin slipping from his features as Keith cuffed his chin.

 

“If I were to make you part of our crew, what would you do for me in return?” Keith seemed to be the conniving one - at least Lance was upfront about trying to finagle his way out of this. Lance’s eyes swept over Keith’s form, taking in the way his shirt was too tight over his muscular shoulders, his hair draping over his neck in disarray, his sleeves rolled up to reveal toned arms. 

 

“What  _ wouldn’t  _ I do for you in return?” Lance whispered. Keith looked taken aback, flush quick to make its way from his cheeks down his neck. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, like a dehydrated fish lost for words. 

 

“Keith, we’re going.” Shiro passed by in a flurry of overcoat, placing his hat on his head upon his exit. Keith swallowed thickly and pushed himself away, finally deciding on saying nothing as he fled in a hurry after his captain. Lance sighed, placing his elbows on his knees and looking around the tavern.

 

Working there was boring, to say the least. The good thing about being on land was that he got to bathe whenever he wanted, however thoroughly he wanted to, and that was the only highlight. Otherwise, Lance had next to nothing to do but work. Maybe Captain Shiro and Keith hadn’t meant to kill him by leaving him, but he felt he might just die of boredom regardless.

 

He was used to routine; wake up, count rations, order people about deck, check their coordinates, eat food, check more coordinates, plan their next moves, write in his journal, go to bed, and repeat. 

 

But at least being out on the ocean called for adventure. The tavern was all the same; the same scenery, the same three coworkers, the same thing to do every day with no variation. Multiple times within the past couple months he’d pondered going up to the highest cliff-face and just throwing himself off - but this was the debt he was paying. This was how things had ended up, even though he’d just wanted to get that blasted chest full of riches that was  _ supposed  _ to belong to his mother’s family. To  _ his  _ family. He wondered how they were doing… 

 

Lance thought of his older sister, pregnant the last time he’d seen her. He has another niece or nephew, now.

 

“Coran?” Lance glanced up from the table he was wiping down. The early mornings were always dead, everyone either still asleep or setting sail. The tavern was empty save for him, Coran, and his coworker Rolo. 

 

Coran didn’t look up from whatever document he was looking at. “Yes, m’boy?” He flipped the parchment over. Lance chewed at his lip in thought. Coran was nice, sure, but he wasn’t here to help Lance. He was like his babysitter more than anything else. 

 

“If I started to make other wages, would you have to send them to Shiro?” When Coran looked up at him he decidedly went back to wiping down the tables, eyebrows pulled together in thought. 

 

“The contract Shiro signed states that your wages from bartending and busing go to him. I suppose if you decided on working other services for me they would have to go to you, directly.” It appeared that he wasn’t sure telling Lance was a good idea.

 

“Other services like what?” Lance rinsed off his rag and continued to clean tables. 

 

“Running errands for me like picking up rum and groceries, taking care of trades, whoring.” Coran waved at him precariously, and Lance felt like he might choke on his own tongue. “Becoming a harlot would probably reap the most benefits for you!” He was saying it as if it were factual. Lance wondered how many people must ogle him for Coran to say it so casually. He  _ knew  _ he was good looking - he was told that he was pretty all the time. But… 

 

“I don’t know about that.” He grabbed his bucket and trudged his way back to the bar, moving around Rolo. 

 

“You’d make good money.” Rolo chimed in, and Lance glared at his slow, lazy smile. 

 

“Running errands sounds fine for now. I just need to send money home.” Lance picked up the list of their opening duties from under the counter, crossing off the things they’d already gotten done. 

 

“Perfect! I have a lot of errands to run today and no time to do them.” Coran waved yet another list at them, and Lance sighed as he made his way over to pluck it from his fingers, glancing down at all of the things he was supposed to pick up. “Off you go, then. No time to dilly-dally!” Coran prompted him. Lance sighed, wandering behind the bar to slip into his boots before he was on his way. 

 

It was nice to be outside with a purpose, but he still glanced towards the docks with longing, at the ships waiting there to be taken back out to sea, being refitted and restocked. Lance stood for a moment too long, and then went on his way. 

 

It was already dark out by the time Lance managed to make it back with two huge bagfuls of items that Coran claimed he needed. He could hear the hubbub from hundreds of feet away from the tavern, so decidedly took the back entrance, pushing all the items through the door and sighing as he set them down in Coran’s office. The older man wasn’t in there, so Lance supposed he must be working in Lance’s place, so he shut the door and then went out to the bar. 

 

He could see Coran talking with Captain Shiro - Lance  _ thought  _ one of the ships at the docks had looked familiar but he hadn’t been sure - and Keith, who was sipping at a pint of something or other and glancing around idly. Lance ducked into the bathroom, stepping over a pirate who was making a home over the toilet, and glanced at himself in the awful mirror there. He fixed his hair, straightened out his clothes, brushed the dirt from his boots, and then emerged, wandering over to the bar to help Rolo, eyes trained on Keith. 

 

He wasn’t sure if it was by chance or because he’d sensed Lance watching him, but Keith’s gaze found him at the bar. He twiddled his fingers in a wave, but Keith didn’t wave back, just took another sip from his pint and then looked away. Lance puffed his cheeks out, ignoring Rolo’s chuckling next to him as he passed a pint to the pirate waiting at the bar. 

 

“They wanted more, if you want to take it to them before Nyma does.” Rolo offered, grabbing a tray from the blonde girl and setting it down so that he could begin to fill more cups. Lance hummed thoughtfully, stepping around the bar and waiting for Rolo to top-off the last glass before taking the tray and weaving his way through the tables. 

 

“Captain Shiro. Great to see you.” Lance set a pint down in front of him. Shiro looked at him warily, sliding the pint closer to himself. 

 

“Lance. Good to see you’re doing well.” It was the kind of cold formality that Lance knew he didn’t mean, but he accepted it anyways. 

 

“I have a question for you.” Lance set his tray down in front of Keith, leaning over the table and jamming a thumb in the first mate’s direction. “Pretty boy was talking to me about being part of your crew and I want in.” 

 

Keith choked on his drink, using it as an excuse to cover the entirety of his face when Shiro turned to raise an eyebrow at him. 

 

It wasn’t a lie, necessarily. Keith hadn’t agreed to anything, though. In fact, he’d frozen up at Lance’s proposition and hadn’t replied. It had been months since Lance had last seen him. 

 

“Was he?” Shiro took a sip of his rum, leaning back in his seat. 

 

“He was. So I was wondering when that was going to happen. As much as I  _ love  _ it here I really do miss being out on the ocean, so…” Lance hopped up to sit on the table, even with Coran swatting at him to get down. 

 

“Keith knows my decision is final, and any arrangements you made with him are not credible.” Shiro watched him over the rim of his cup, and Lance stared back determinedly. 

 

“Arrangement? Is that we he called it?” Lance smirked. 

 

“I didn’t say anything-” Keith protested, but Lance ignored him. 

 

“What about you, then? Do you drive a hard bargain?” Lance reached out to toy with the feather on Shiro’s hat. Shiro, out of complacency or something else, let him do so. 

 

“Your situation is non negotiable.” Shiro had the gall to smile at him, so Lance plucked the feather from his hat and hopped off the counter, watching the smile droop from the captain’s face and seeing Keith scowl out of the corner of his eye. 

 

“I hope you know I don’t intend on staying here long.” Lance used the feather to tickle Keith’s chin. He  _ almost  _ managed to snatch it back but Lance was a millisecond faster. “And when I get out of here I’m coming for you first.” He pointed a finger right in Shiro’s face, but Shiro didn’t seem intimidated or wary. 

 

In fact, he laughed in Lance’s face as if he’d just told the funniest joke Shiro had ever heard. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

 

Lance turned to stare at Keith, who was sipping away at his pint and watching Lance in badly veiled interest. His eyes swept over Lance in one long, deliberate swoop, and Lance debated for a drawn out moment whether to initiate something - to grate on Shiro’s nerves if nothing else. 

 

“Lance, back to work, please.” Coran scolded, finally getting Lance’s attention. Lance set the feather down on the table, eye contact with Keith not breaking away until he turned on his heel and went back to work. 

 

The night went on without fanfare. Lance was exceedingly bored - the longer the night went on the more bored he became. Typically, that would make him want to stir up trouble, but with Shiro and Keith watching him like a hawk he thought it was best he just let himself be bored. Every once in awhile he would catch Keith staring at him too hard. 

 

The night started to bleed into morning, and the patrons slowly began to filter out until it was only Shiro and Keith left, with Rolo, Coran, and Lance working downstairs. As Lance stepped around a pair of passed out pirates to wipe down a table he watched as Keith and Shiro stood. Shiro passed him, paying him no mind as he went to talk to Coran, and as Keith approached Lance turned on his heel to wipe down tables on the other side of the tavern. 

 

Keith was quick to grasp onto his wrist, grip tight and sending tingles up Lance’s spine at the contact - the leather of his gloves was especially cold in comparison to the warmth of his fingers on Lance’s skin. 

 

They stared at each other for a moment. 

 

“Do you need something?” Lance finally asked after long silence.

 

“No.” Keith released him, crossing his arms over his chest and averting his gaze downwards. Lance narrowed his eyes at him, taking a hesitant step away. 

 

“... Do you want rum for the road?” It was the only thing Lance’s brain could conjure up. Keith nodded his head, but still didn’t look at Lance. Lance waited for another moment, to see if Keith would say anything. When he didn’t, Lance went back behind the counter, paying no attention to Coran and Shiro’s conversation because he wasn’t hearing his name and so he wasn’t interested. He brought out an old recycled glass bottle of rum, making his way back over to Keith to holding it out to him. 

 

Keith might’ve thought he was being slick by wrapping his hand around Lance’s.

 

The only thing it did was trap Lance’s hand so he couldn’t let go. “Uhm.” 

 

Shiro cleared his throat, and Keith visibly jumped away. Thankfully, Lance was still holding onto the bottle. Shiro took it from him without incident. 

 

“Nice to see you, Lance.” Shiro tipped his captain’s hat, and Lance nodded complacently as he watched the broader man leave the tavern with Keith following. 

 

Keith didn’t look back, but that didn’t stop Lance from watching him leave. 

 

When Keith returned the next night Lance avoided him like the plague.

 

He mostly just didn’t know how to react to him, or the odd feeling in his gut every time he looked at him. In the beginning he’d just called it resentment; intense hatred because he was stuck here. 

 

But he knew it wasn’t just that, deep down… which was why he’d started off his night as far away from the first mate as he could and ended the shift behind the bar, leaving the tables to Nyma as he wiped down glasses with Rolo. It was normal for Keith and Shiro to be among the last patrons to leave, so Lance wasn’t too perturbed by the whole thing until Shiro left the tavern alone, leaving Keith behind. Stubbornly, he averted his gaze downward, staring at the glass in his hand as he wiped it clean. 

 

“Lance.” Keith sat down right on the seat in front of him. Lance released a huge breath, setting his towel down and leaning into his hip as he lifted his gaze up to Keith. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“What if I want to take you up on your offer?” 

 

Lance’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “My offer?” 

 

Keith flushed up to his ears, fidgeting uselessly with the gloves on his hands. “What if I managed to find a way to get you out of here?” 

 

Lance immediately perked up, straightening from his slouch in interest. “You have?” He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He could get out of here. No more waiting on drunken pirates, no more cleaning puke from the inside of the toilet, no more lugging huge barrels of rum from one end of the island to another. 

 

“No… not yet.” Keith visibly seemed to be slouching more, in contrast to Lance. 

 

Lance sighed, tossing his rag into the dirty water and turning to start putting away clean glasses, his excitement crushed like a bug. “So, why are you here? I don’t have time for theoreticals.”

 

“Because I’m willing to figure it out, for something in return.” Lance scoffed. 

 

“You abandoned me on an island with nothing. What do I possibly have to give you?” He turned to look at the first mate - his gaze was heated with something Lance saw all the time. Plenty of people that visited the tavern looked at him like that. Knowing that, it still made him uncomfortable, and he went back to putting glasses away feeling locked up and on guard. 

 

“Nevermi-”

 

“Suppose I said okay.”  _ He  _ was the one talking theoretically now. “How do I know you’d be keeping your end of the bargain?” 

 

“I guess you wouldn’t, until I came back with results.” At least Keith was honest about it. 

 

Lance heaved a deep sigh, turning to study Keith. Was all of this a gamble he was willing to take? But more importantly… he was the only thing he really had left, and Lance wasn’t sure if he was ready to relinquish all of himself in exchange for… what? A theoretical way to get the rest of his life back? 

 

He felt like he had to try. 

 

“Fine.” He huffed. 

 

“Fine?” Keith took a step back. 

 

“Fine.” Lance repeated, putting the last glass away. “But if you don’t figure it out I’m finding a way by myself.” And he’d likely take Keith’s head while he did it. Keith shook his head. 

 

“You won’t have to.” 

 

Lance hummed thoughtfully, not entirely convinced. But he’d have to take the chance anyways. 

 

Any way to get out of there.

**Author's Note:**

> amoxli on tumblr made some super gorgeous art of my first installment of this fic you should go follow them! here's the art here: http://amoxli.tumblr.com/post/165798644171/dwreed-s-klancelot-pirate-au-had-me-so-mother


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